Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by a crooked crack.
A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech.
Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the hoofs, the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a butcher’s dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.
Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question.
THE LOITERERS: (Guffaw with cleft palates) O jays!
It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the bronze flight of eagles.
Cleave to her!
The navvy, staggering forward, cleaves the crowd and lurches towards the tramsiding on the farther side under the railway bridge bloom appears, flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket.
The cloven sex.
(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a tree a large mango fruit, offers it to his mistress, blinking, in his cloven hoof, then droops his head and, grunting, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel.